Mello Might be Overprotective
by Dlvvanzor
Summary: Mello has always made it very, very clear to his men what would happen to them if they so much as breathed on Matt. MelloxMatt oneshot, Mello POV. Rated for language.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note.**

**A/N: This started out as a ramble and turned into a full-sized oneshot! It's always nice when that happens. :)**

* * *

I've always been a little bit protective of Matt. Once, when we were kids at Wammy's, some bigger kids decided to steal one of his game systems. I... violently intervened. They never did it again. In fact, they apologized, gave it back, and bought him three new games. For a week, he talked about the goodness of humanity and about how he wondered what made them change their minds. I never told him that what had changed their damn minds were two broken bones and some very inventive, explicitly-worded, and very-true threats.

I will protect him, no matter what. Period.

**-----DN-----**

"Mello, it's two in the afternoon. Get the fuck out of bed."

I groaned, rubbing my face with my hands as my prick of a boyfriend knocked on my forehead. "I'm not a damn door," I reminded him oh-so-gently, smacking his hand away.

Matt smirked. "There are so many things I could do with that sentence."

"But you're not going to, because you love me enough to know that since I only got..." I looked at the clock, "...forty-seven minutes of sleep last night, I will happily pummel even you to death if you so much as speak another word before I've had coffee."

Yes, that was me. I could be really scary when I was sleep-deprived. My men would say that I'm _always_ scary, but I would point my gun at their faces and tell them to correct themselves and inform you that I am, in fact, the perfect gentleman. I can seriously get off on that shit. No lie.

Matt knew I wouldn't hurt him, unfortunately, so my threat held no meaning and he happily continued to blather on about things I didn't care about.

That's what I expected him to do, of course, and the only way I wanted it. "Wait, you only got home an hour ago?" he asked, puzzled.

"Yeah, why?" I groaned, rolling over and burying my face in his lap where he sat on the bed. He automatically began to stroke my hair, which I told him I hated but he knew I secretly loved. Damn observant basement-dwelling otaku.

"Nothing. I just... heard something, at like midnight. I woke up for a minute and thought it was you, so I just went back to sleep."

It was good that he couldn't see my face, because he would have seen me drop all my expressions and put on my 'blank' mask, the one I used at work every moment of every day, and that no one but Matt knew wasn't _actually_ my face. He could see through it, anyway, even when I tried it on him. Usually that was great, in terms of my mental health, but in this situation it could have been very, very bad.

I have total control over my voice, however, so I casually asked him what the sound was like, over the frantic pace of my heartbeat. Not even _he_ could see through my Controlled Voice. Or... _hear_ through it. Whatever.

He shrugged, but even without looking at him I could tell that he was not as comfortable as he was pretending to be. "Just like you."

By which he meant, next to _silent._ Like, shinobi-level silent.

There was something he didn't know about me. He sensed it, but he had had the decency to never ask, and I intended to keep it that way. It was hard to miss, anyway. Someone doesn't just disappear from your childhood home for four years and, during that time, magically gain epic skills and a dead stare. I mean, he knew I was in the Mafia. But he didn't exactly know that I was, um, the Boss. Like, Boss with a capitol 'B.' And how, as such, anyone I loved was going to be a target.

I had made damn sure every single one of my men knew of Matt's existence. I had _also_ made damn sure that every single one of my men knew what would happen to them if a single hair on Matt's head was even _breathed_ on by someone without Matt's permission. They knew to not even come to my house unless I ordered them there, and they knew that even _that_ was risky because I would sometimes forget I had ordered them to come and then shoot them the moment they were on the premises. They were forbidden to go to any video game store within a 150-mile radius, further than Matt would _ever_ go, and I reimbursed anyone who bought video games online. I had taken every single one of my men aside separately, shown him a picture of Matt, and made it excruciatingly clear that there were no circumstances under which it was okay to hurt, scare, kill, taunt, tease, tickle, steal from, or otherwise maim this person. I made it _so_ clear that there wasn't even a chance that they would mistake him for someone else on the street. I made it a fatal offense to shoot someone wearing striped shirts. I didn't care if that meant we lost the occasional hit. If he were hurt in their vicinity, even if they didn't _do _it, they would be punished. All of them. The entire branch. Not even just those who were there. In fact, it was in their best interest to take the bullet _for_ Matt, which I also explained to them. Because dying by intercepted gunshot wound would be a lot more pleasant than how I would kill them if they _didn't_.

And they knew I would do it. Knew I would kill them slowly. So, so slowly. It would involve knives up their asses and their dicks leaving their bodies, and those were just the first few things I would do. Fingernails. Toenails. Hair. Teeth. I'd peel off their skin with my bare hands, fingers dipped in lemon juice, and then roll them in salt.

It would. not. be. pretty. And they knew it, because I told them in explicit detail exactly what I would do and in what order I would do it.

Matt was so fucking off-limits that there was no way, no way in _Hell_, that one of my men would be stupid enough to try something.

Except, apparently for this guy. Because no one else within 100 miles was trained as well as my men, and so no one but my men could move that quietly. If it was a man from a faraway branch that I _didn't_ own, then we would have detected his crossing into our territory.

Well, if he was really that stupid, then he was too stupid to continue living and it was good that he would be dying shortly. Get that stupid fuck out of the gene pool.

Matt nudged me, and I realized that I had totally zoned out, lost in my own thoughts of death and damnation towards anyone who might be lurking. The fact that I was _able_ to zone out should be proof enough that I love Matt. I never let my guard down around anyone else. Anyone.

"I think it was an animal," I lied. "What else can you tell me about it? I wanna know if I should call Animal Control or just let it be."

"I don't think it was an animal," he said casually, still disguising the way he was actually feeling. "Or if it was, it would have to be a panther or something. Seriously, Mels, what animal can move like you?"

Mels. He had called me Mels. He only called me Mels when he was nervous, mad, or feeling mushy in my direction. And he wasn't cuddling me and I hadn't done anything to piss him off. He sat down next to me on the bed.

"All right," I said, propping myself up on my elbows. "So it sounded like me, but obviously it wasn't me. Can you tell me _anything_ else? Did you see anything at all?"

"Of course not. Mello, you're a damn ninja."

"Okay."

I spent the rest of the day on edge, constantly glancing over my shoulder. I didn't even go to work. I lied and told him that I had the day off. In reality, as Boss, I could just _not show up_ whenever I damn well pleased and, um, who exactly was going to confront me about it? Not _me_, the Boss they all referred to as Crazy Fuck. Sometimes to my face, and always with the utmost respect. I love that nickname.

He played video games as usual, in between the occasional hacking jobs for me. He never asked what they were for, he simply did them extraordinarily well and then told me when the job was completed. I sat right by him on the couch, armed to the teeth (concealed weapons, of course), pretending to be working on my laptop but really watching the screen's reflection to make sure no one was sneaking up on us.

He paused his game and looked at me, tilting his head. "Mels, what are you doing?"

"Reading this page," I answered promptly.

"For the last twenty minutes?"

"...It's in a small font?" I offered.

He shook his head, but didn't interrogate me further.

It was going to be a very, very long day.

**-----DN-----**

Matt fell asleep on the couch, his head on my shoulder, his controller still in his hands. I smiled to myself. I would do anything for this boy.

...And the person sneaking up behind me seemed to know it.

I reached into my pants and removed my most accurate gun, clicking the safety off. I didn't care that it was loud; I wanted the guy to know that I knew he was there.

Just as I thought. The shadow froze.

"Who are you?" I asked very, very quietly.

"...John," the voice answered finally.

Ah yes. One of mine. Maybe he thought that honesty would make me kill him less painfully. He was wrong. Except, well, maybe I _would_ have killed him kinder if what he said was actually the truth. If I didn't recognize the voice as _Tom's_.

"Tom, are you really that shallow? _And _that stupid? I'm disappointed," I said in perfect monotone. "Did you really think you would come here, pretending to be John, ghost around for a while, the way I trained you to, 'get caught,' and then slip past me? So that I would kill John for you tomorrow? Yes, you got dumped. Grow some balls and kill him yourself if you want him dead so badly."

Tom was unstable. Like, dangerously unstable, not the good kind of unstable. He was great for jobs, but the rest of the time he was a huge pain in my ass. And also a pain in _John's_ ass, but in an entirely different way. Apparently John had gotten tired of how much of a psycho his 'lover' was, and dumped him. Tom was one of the few guys in my branch who actually _was_ gay. The rest weren't but _pretended_ to be in order to suck up to me. It was fuckin' hilarious, watching straight guys groping each other for a promotion. Kind of hot, too, in its own way. I love chaos so much.

Anyway, John was a good example of a guy who wasn't gay, hooking up with another guy in the branch. I would have to promote him. Just to encourage the other straight guys to keep doing it, because you _seriously_ have no idea how hilarious I mean by 'hilarious.' There aren't _words_. That aside, Tom apparently hadn't figured out that it was just supposed to be a professional fuck, not an actual relationship.

Tom's face crumpled and he lowered his gun, but didn't say anything. I rolled my eyes. "Come on."

For some reason he seemed to believe that we were about to have a heart-to-heart. I wasn't sure which of my previous actions had indicated that I was capable of that with anyone but Matt, but I would have to make sure I never did it again. Couldn't have my men thinking that I cared about them. Tom followed me out of the room, out of the apartment, down the hall, out of the building, down the street. I really don't know how he could possibly be so stupid, but he followed me perfectly contentedly until we were far away from the apartment and in the middle of an empty park.

Like I said before, the man was too stupid to continue living.

"You remember that picture I showed you," I said. It wasn't a question.

Tom nodded. "Matt Jeevas. Not to be screwed with under any circumstances."

"Describe him for me."

"Matt Jeevas. Birthday- 2/1/1990. Height- 5' 5". Weight- 115 pounds. Blood type- O. Red hair. Wears stripes, jeans, goggles, and sometimes a furry vest. Likes video games. Lover of Crazy Fuck, not to be screwed with under any circumstances."

I held up a hand. He stopped instantly. "Correct. Now, do you realize what the problem is?"

"...No?"

"You came to our apartment."

"Yeah..."

"Matt lives there."

"Yes."

"You came to our apartment, where Matt lives, _with_ a gun, two nights in a row. You scared him the first night, which is enough for me to kill you for. The second night, you actually got near us with that same gun. What part of that _isn't_ screwing with Matt? Under _any_ circumstances?"

Tom's eyes went wide. "I wasn't really going to hurt him! No, Mello, you're misunderstanding me. I was just trying to frame John; I wasn't going to hurt Matt!"

I gazed at him coldly, letting my eyes freeze over. "I'm not entirely sure that I believe you. Oh, I know that you were trying to frame John. But how far, exactly, would you have gone...? You were considering actually shooting Matt. Maybe to hurt, maybe to kill. It's irrelevant, though- even _considering _it is unacceptable."

Tom just stood there, trembling. He was such a pussy. So stupid, so... just... bleh.

"Since you didn't actually _do_ anything," I said, "I can't justify torturing you." He perked up, and I rolled my eyes. I did that a lot around him. "Don't get excited," I advised him, and then whipped out my gun, aimed, and shot him directly between the eyes.

He crumbled to the floor, his face frozen in a state of shock. I emptied my gun into his skull, of which there was nothing left by the time I was done.

When he was thoroughly dead- dead several times over- I tossed down my gun and strode away. My men would find the body before the cops did, they'd take care of it. And they'd know damn well it was me, because that was my gun. They'd probably even clean it off and return it to me. Someone would get up the courage to ask what Tom had done, and I'd calmly explain.

I will protect him, no matter what. Period.

**-----DN-----**

When I got back to the apartment, Matt was awake and gaming again. "Hey," he acknowledged.

"Hey."

"What were you up to in the middle of the night?"

Did he suspect something? Did he know me well enough to know that I had willingly and happily killed for him? Was I being paranoid? Probably. I decided to take a preemptive strike. "I found the thing that was making all the noise. It was a coyote. I killed it."

Never one to get upset about the demise of nature, Matt's frown was clearly not for the lost life of the imaginary coyote. "Are there coyotes in LA?" he asked.

"Apparently so."

"But it sounded so close."

"Maybe it sounded like it was quiet and close when it was actually loud but far away," I suggested.

Damn it. He wasn't buying it. He could tell that I was making things up.

He stared at me for a long moment. I noticed that his goggles were around his neck, not over his eyes. That explained why I felt so naked. "Mello," he said finally, slowly, "I never want you to have to kill someone, okay? Even for me."

"Of course not," I said, giving him my best 'deadly sincere' face. "I can stop people in ways other than killing them. What's that have to do with the coyote? It looked pretty rabid, I mean, it was a good thing I shot it and-"

"Because," he interrupted me, "I know you believe in religion and stuff and so, well, my life isn't worth your soul. It's no trade."

"Matt," I said. "What's wrong? Did you think... it was a person you heard?" I frowned as if concerned that there was still someone there.

"Like I said, Mello, what kind of animal moves like you? Besides all the subordinates you trained to do it."

So he knew that much, at least. That I had subordinates. When I didn't say anything more, Matt stood up and walked until he was right in front of me. "Mello, was it really a ninja coyote in LA that sounded like it was nearby but wasn't?"

I looked him straight in the eye and lied to him. "Yes."

He knew it, too. I saw the hurt in his uncovered eyes as he said, "Alright, Mello." He looked at the floor for a moment, probably to hide the fact that he was tearing up. "I'm going to bed," he told the linoleum, and then turned and walked in the direction of our room.

He wouldn't leave me over this, but he sure as hell would be giving me the 'kicked puppy' eyes for at _least_ a week. That would hurt like a motherfucker, but it didn't matter.

Even if it meant losing him, even if it meant _dying_, it didn't matter.

I will protect him, no matter what.

Period.


End file.
